Stud
by Greenzaku
Summary: ‘Quincy Breeding Program: Live cargo. Please handle with care.’ Total crack. IchiIshiHime IkkaKira. How much does it take to turn a quincy gentleman into a raving sex maniac?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Written as a gift fic for TrulyWished. This fic is based somewhat off events in her fic entitled 'One is Too Many' combined with my drabble 'Pride is Not Enough'. It's not necessary to read either in order to understand the story, but here is some brief background info.

Ikkaku is captain of the 3rd Division.

Kira is his partner and lieutenant.

Ishida will be spending _quite_ a bit of time in Sereitei.

**Warnings:** Yaoi. Lemon. Kink. Smut. Colourful language. Moderate violence. Hairballs. You have been warned.

**Pairings and characters:** IchixIshixHime, IchixIshi, IkkakuxKira, Yumichika, Hanatarou, Hinamori, Ryuken, Unohana etc

**Disclaimer: **Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo. Tetsummi (minorOC) belongs to TrulyWished. All your base are belong to us.

* * *

Uryuu Ishida took off his glasses. Wearing them now did little to improve his vision. In the darkened room, Ichigo was grinning idiotically and wavering between being a hazy blur and two Ichigos, depending on whether or not the Quincy decided to cross his eyes. Normally the archer would have seized every excuse to grumble at his thick-headed, orange-haired partner, but not today. Not when the Ichigo's bed was soft and warm and very pleasant things were being done to his naked body. Not when he was drunk and sleepy and full of good food on his birthday night. And especially not when said shinigami gently took his wrists and restrained him to the bedposts while promising him much, much more to come. Wide, sturdy straps were buckled into place over his ankles as well. The Quincy shuddered with barely-contained anticipation. 

His vision continued to swim as Ichigo covered him with tender kisses and nibbled delicately at the skin of his neck. He paused once to speak to someone outside the room. Then the door swung open. For a moment, the drunken haze cleared as Ishida jerked against his restraints in alarm at the invasion of his privacy; only to lie back with a sigh when he realised that the intruder was Orihime.

The evening was going to get even better.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched as the Orihime-shaped blur sidled into the room, quietly shut the door and came to his side. She knelt down and reached forward to run a finger down the side of his neck, down to his collarbone; while her free hand began unbuttoning her blouse. The finger kept travelling down, over his chest and abdomen, and he gurgled with pleasure. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ishida knew that he should be protesting, frowning at her lack of decency and… Ichigo leaned past her and sealed his lips over his own, cutting off any resistance. Two pairs of hands began to tease and arouse his sensitive body, drawing muffled whimpers from the Quincy as he surrendered to complete sensory overload.

He was almost unable to bring himself to notice the sudden stinging sensation in the side of his upper thigh that vanished as soon as he pulled away from Ichigo and strained to see what had happened. To his horror, Ryuken Ishida towered over him, an empty syringe in hand.

**…!!!!!!!**

The younger Ishida howled at the top of his lungs and tried to yank himself free, but he was securely strapped into place. Ichigo continued to stroke him while urging him to relax. The tranquilizer took effect immediately and his struggles began to slow. Orihime, the gentle, soft-hearted _bitch_, was holding on to him and telling him that everything was going to be okay and that he should just go to sleep. Ryuken was smiling slightly, though Ishida's poor vision when minus his glasses prevented him from noticing. Soon, his arms became too heavy to lift and his violent thrashing ceased altogether.

His mind was the last to surrender to the drug. Fury cooled to confusion, and finally, calm helplessness as Uryuu Ishida sank into slumber, still wrapped in his lovers' embrace.

* * *

About two hours later, an enormous steel-reinforced crate sat on rollers behind Karakura Town's main post office. Small holes drilled through the top admitted air for the container's sleeping occupant. As Ryuken drove off, a young delivery man dressed in a Federal Express uniform glanced about to check if he was alone, before approaching it cautiously. The formidable shipment was two metres across on each side. It was addressed and billed to a certain Retsu Unohana, of postcode 'G13-4D'. He took a small dispenser out of his pocket and popped a Soul Candy into his mouth. 

Yamada Hanatarou emerged and released a black butterfly. He commanded his gigai to push the crate over the rollers and towards the portal that opened at the other end. Slowly the crate started moving and rolled forward on its own momentum, gradually accelerating. The spirit-Hanatarou leapt, caught the edge of the crate and scrabbled clumsily until he managed to climb on top. Together they vanished though the portal.

As Hanatarou and the crate traversed between worlds, the shinigami leaned across to peer at the words printed on its sides. On his left, magical lettering glowed, spelling out the words 'Quincy Breeding Program: Live cargo. Please handle with care.'

On the other side was another sentence, printed with mundane words visible to the human eye.

'FedEx Japan: Whatever it takes.'

* * *

The team of 4th division shinigami stood ready at the gate closest to their headquarters. Right on schedule, the crate materialised. It was night here, too; and one of them passed Hanatarou a torch. It cast long, dancing shadows into the night, making the diminutive shinigami look almost menacing. Orange firelight flickered across his nervous face as he sucked in a deep breath. From where he crouched above the crate, Hanatarou reached forward with a trembling hand and slowly grasped the bolt that held the door shut. The assembled shinigami fell silent, preparing themselves for the worst. 

The officer closed his eyes and began to draw the bolt aside. Metal scraped softly against metal with agonising slowness. More than one hand found its way to the hilt of its owner's zanpakutou out of pure survival instinct. A few of the timid shinigami flinched slightly as the bolt came fully open with a slight 'clunk'. Quincy reiatsu seeped forth from within, no longer bound by the magical seal. Very gently, Hanatarou let go of the bolt.

Nothing happened. The shinigami released involuntarily-held breaths. The dangerous, Captain-smiting Quincy was still thankfully unconscious. Calm descended on the group and Hanatarou steadied himself atop the crate before pushing the door open from the left side.

Instead of opening sideways, the door was actually hinged at the bottom. The top of the two inch-thick metal barrier suddenly fell away from Hanatarou. He lunged to grab it and succeeded, but it was heavier than he was and pulled him off the crate as it continued to fall, before hitting the ground with a reverberating crash. A second, smaller crash followed immediately after as Hanatarou fell on top of it with a shrill yelp; right in front of the opening

Despite having the breath knocked from his lungs, the fallen shinigami still had enough wits about him to turn himself around. The light of his dropped torch illuminated the interior of the crate for a brief second, reflecting off rectangular eyeglasses and widening scrowl.

And as the light sputtered and died, the screams began.

* * *

"Hey Ikka, what's going on at the Fourth?" 

The bald captain peered where his friend pointed. On the other side of the wall dividing the Third and Fourth division compounds, some sort of commotion was clearly taking place. The sounds of ferocious battle drifted over to Ikkaku and Yumichika, sweet music to their ears. It sounded like quite a fight too.

"Hmph…maybe they're sparring properly for once. I didn't think they had it in them." Captain Madarame Ikkaku shrugged dismissively and took another swig out of his bottle. Though his face remained impassive, he couldn't help but nurse a warm, fuzzy feeling towards his weaker allies. He could certainly drink to that.

As they watched, the tiny figure of Hanatarou was catapulted over the wall, still shrieking, to land within their compound.

"HANA..!!! Are you alright..?" Lieutenant Izuru Kira leapt to his feet and bolted over to the foot of the wall where the smaller shinigami lay. When he approached, the battered healer pushed himself upright and gasped, "uh…uh…fine…Lieutenant Kira… Quincy…angry…escaping…"

_What the hell? _Kira turned to his superior. "Captain! Yumichika! The Fourth division is fighting Quincy! We've got to help!" Desperate blue eyes fastened their gaze on the captain, pleading for his approval and assistance.

Ikkaku at first wanted to wave him away, to tell him that the Fourth had a capable leader and needed to learn to defend itself for once; when it suddenly occurred to him that he _knew_ the Quincy on the other side of the wall. Grinning from ear to ear, he realised this was a fight he and Yume couldn't afford to miss. Still, out of pure respect for the Fourth at having engaged in battle first, he took his time rising to his feet and ambling over with Yumichika. Knowing the nature of both sides in the conflict, no-one was going to die. Hanatarou was already healing himself. Together they sauntered though the gate and into the Fourth division compound.

The grounds and exercise equipment were festooned with the semi-conscious bodies of 4th division shinigami. Leaving Kira behind to mother them, Yumichika and Ikkaku ran more quickly towards the source of the ruckus. What if the unthinkable happened and the Fourth actually _won_ before they arrived?

As it was, the battle had come to a standoff. Ishida ploughed through at least fifty medics with his fists, feet and impromptu weapons before being cornered by another hundred including Isane and Unohana herself. Ishida nursed minor bruises; his hand-sewn clothes tattered, as he held the unconscious Third Seat Iemura over one arm as a human shield. Just as Ikkaku thought, no one wanted to really hurt each other. How boring.

The female captain's powerful reiatsu hummed in the air as she tried to reason with the Quincy. Ikkaku and Yumichika waited at the back to find out what was going on.

"Ishida, you are in no danger here. You will receive your weapons and personal effects once you return my subordinate and calm down."

"NO! I demand to be sent back to Earth! I repeat: I am NOT going to be a breeding stud for the whole bloody female population of Soul Society!"

Yumichika and Kira glanced at each other sympathetically. Poor Quincy.

Unohana laughed quietly. "I must have not explained things clearly enough. I am afraid that we cannot return you to Earth without permission from your father; a man who, by the way, I truly respect…"

The Quincy remained silent, teeth grinding under his breath.

"…He has accepted the soutaichou's offer of help in restoring your race. As the Fourth division, we are bound to provide for your _physical _needs." Her voice lowered subtly.

"I'm not a fucking whore! I not sleeping with you or any random bitch off the street!"

The air seemed to spike with Unohana's anger, even though she remained calm and polite. A fearful shudder passed though the ranks of the shinigami who were still standing, but Ishida somehow stood his ground.

"Ishida, I am sure you do not need me to remind you of the urgency of the Quincy situation. You can refuse me specifically, but do you not ultimately wish to see your race survive? Would you be so selfish as to refuse our apology and deny shinigami a chance to make amends?"

Ishida's face went scarlet at the last remark. It wasn't so long ago that he had finally put aside his grudge against shinigami, so that he could be with Ichigo with a clear conscience. But this was waaay too much, too soon. Frantically, his gaze moved over the crowd. Then he spotted the second captain and his eyes widened in surprise. Inside his head, mental gears were turning.

_That was the same bald shinigami from the Eleventh, one of those that helped Orihime and I find Ichigo in Soul Society years ago. The pretty one next to him…I remember him too. They go around together a lot. C'mon…think, Ishida, think…_

Suddenly he pulled Iemura upright and held him close. "Captain Unohana…! I PREFER MEN!!!" Ishida tried to not wince as he planted a wet, passionate kiss on the officer's lips. Iemura's eyes fluttered open…and shut again as the heterosexual shinigami swooned in terror. All around them, various shinigami were struggling with the decision to stare or turn away and shudder. Ikkaku slapped his forehead, while Kira studied a little pebble on the ground.

"Wow, he really is getting desperate," Yumichika remarked softly. To everyone's surprise however, Unohana continued serenely, completely unfazed.

"Inoue Orihime would beg to differ. Please stop molesting my third seat. _Now._"

The surge of reiatsu shook even Ishida enough to make him drop the limp shinigami to the ground…_gently_. At once, calm returned to the courtyard.

"Thank you. By the way, Ichigo is most welcome too. Will you now accompany me to your quarters?" A hundred hopeful pairs of eyes (including many female ones) returned their gaze to the Quincy. But his eyes focused only on one person – Ikkaku.

The captain was so familiar with that look that he could attach words to it by now. Silently, the Quincy was crying out:

_Save me!_

* * *

**A/N:** Ok, hopefully I actually know where this is going to go. I've tried to keep people in character as they are in canon, or in TrulyWished's fic. The crate scene was totally inspired by the opening of the first Jurassic Park movie. BTW, 'Whatever it takes' really is a FedEx slogan XD 


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** This chapter is probably going to feel a bit slower than the first. If you haven't read TrulyWished's fic, it will help to explain some of the background behind this story. And now, Ishida's torture begins.

* * *

"So I bargained with her. We can keep him for now. At least we can use him to train the recruits." 

Ikkaku and Yumichika followed Unohana's directions to the quincy's room. Feathered eyebrows rose in surprise.

"My dear Ikka, as much as I am pleased that you have taken yet another poor, abused soul under your wing; I can't help but wonder if we can uphold our end of the deal. Beating the shit out of the Twelfth Division if they get too interested is easy. Returning Ishida in a 'willing and able' condition may be harder."

Ikkaku chose not to answer. But the toothy grin he gave his friend told Yumichika that the captain already had plans in mind for the quincy. Yumichika loved it when Ikkaku's teeth shone as brightly as his scalp. It meant that there would soon be fun to be had. They paused at the correct door and knocked.

"Go away."

Ikkaku banged harder.

"The answer is 'no'. Fuck off."

**SMASH!!!**

The door flew off its hinges and Ikkaku withdrew his fist. The pair paused for a few moments and gaped. Veterans of countless battles, fierce and hardened warriors they were, but nothing could have prepared them for the sight that lay within.

Every Earth item that presumably once belonged in the quincy's bedroom had been carefully transported and installed in his new one. Whoever was responsible for his current plight had gone to great lengths to keep him in familiar surroundings so he could relax and get down to the serious business of making babies. The quincy himself was looking up at them in alarm while sitting on his bed with a sewing frame in his lap, interrupted in the midst of mending his clothes by candlelight. He wore the black kimono and hakama bound with a white sash that was the standard-issue shinigami uniform. Lastly a Fourth Division medical bag hung from his back.

To anyone who had ever been an Eleventh Divison officer, it looked positively tragic.

The captain shook his head and clicked his tongue in pity at Unohana's attempt to disguise Ishida as a rank-and-file Fourth Division shinigami. Yumichika daintily covered his mouth to suppress a chuckle. Ishida regarded them with an expression that was a curious mixture of horror; embarrassment and relief before rising to greet them. Ikkaku cuffed him gently in greeting before hauling him out of the room by his collar.

"Welcome to Soul Society, kid. You're coming with us."

* * *

_This is disgraceful_, Ishida thought, _I hate my life_. Not only had his pride in being a quincy been sullied by the events of the past four hours, his would-be saviours were dragging him off to an unknown fate. Still, anything beat being a captive whore, right? He found himself looking back at his Fourth Division bedroom with a slight twinge of regret, one that did not go unnoticed by Yumichika. 

He was told to deposit his belongings in a room containing a large bed (oh no!), that turned out to be Lieutenant Kira's (phew). An internal door partitioned it from the captain's own bedroom, into which he pulled the blond shinigami. Yumichika led Ishida to the mess hall for a meal – he had not eaten since prior to his abduction. There the effeminate man sat and began to talk.

"Listen, there are some things I need to let you know. Firstly, you'd have to be fucking blind to not have noticed that Ikka and his pretty lieutenant are an item."

Ishida nodded. That much was obvious. He continued eating as Yumichika stifled a yawn.

"Secondly, whatever goes on in his room, stays in his room. You are not allowed in there. Do not disturb them. I don't care what kind of bullshit you pulled off with Mayuri, but Ikkaku isn't gonna stand for it." Now Yumichika pouted, stretched languorously across the table and watched with satisfaction as Ishida kept on staring.

"I get the point." The quincy wasn't sure if he was expected to be disappointed. The bloody fairy sitting right in front of him was being a lot more distracting than the idea of two other men doing something behind closed doors. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and chewed his noodles, feigning nonchalance.

So he was taken by surprise when Yumichika pushed himself upright on his elbows and slid a delicate finger under his chin. He stared past Ishida's glasses, transfixing him with a steely gaze.

"Lastly, Kira does not like having anyone he doesn't know well inside his room. He's putting up with the invasion of privacy only because he trusts Ikkaku when he commands it. Do not meddle with his personal stuff. Ever. Or he will _cry_. And last quincy or no, Ikkaku _will_ kill you."

"What? You're joking." Ishida pushed the shinigami's hand away, albeit half-heartedly.

But Yumichika's gaze remained dead serious. He pondered whether or not it was worth explaining things further to the quincy, before deciding it was unnecessary.

"Count your blessings. We've saved you from Unohana's terrible clutches, and you've got somewhere nice to sleep. Go to bed soon – training starts at 6am tomorrow," Yumichika noted the questioning look on Ishida's face. "What? You thought he'd take on a freeloader when you could give him some _beautiful _fights? Puh-lease." The shinigami got up to leave.

For a moment, Ishida was at a loss for words…but he had to ask. The bed was rather large after all.

"Yumichika…where are you sleeping tonight?"

The shinigami paused to roll his eyes. Boy, was the chap an idiot.

"Not with you."

And with a final swish of his hips, he was gone.

* * *

Ishida emerged from the bathroom and went to his…no, _Kira's_ room. Mindful of Yumichika's warning, he stepped warily around cupboards, shelves and drawers and did not unpack his clothes out of the duffel bag at the foot of the bed. There was always more sewing to do, but he was getting tired. He put out the bedside lamp, climbed into bed and wriggled under the blanket. Barely a few minutes later… 

_Mmmm…_(shuffle)

Ishida's eyes flew open as he listened intently. What was that?

Groan…_whimper…Ikkaku!...aaaaah…please…please_

He could hear what was happening on the other side of the door. The sounds were distant and muffled, but it was clear that the bald captain and his lieutenant were getting intimate.

* * *

Oblivious to the quincy in the adjoining room, Ikkaku held his squirming lieutenant close as he nibbled gently where his lover's slender neck joined his shoulder. He slid a callused hand between their thighs to cup the other man's scrotum, brushing against the tip of Kira's weeping erection along the way; and was rewarded with a shudder of pleasure and a keening moan. He loved it when Kira was lost in his arousal, eyes shut while calling his name and giving that high-pitched whimper that drove him wild with need. 

Ikkaku's other hand kneaded Kira's back, easing tense muscles and tracing the edges of scars. Scars were a mark of pride in the Eleventh Division, a record of battles fought and won, or at least survived. But Ikkaku knew that Kira would never look upon his scars that way; for they were not earned in battle. It would be an understatement to say that had a score to settle with Ichimaru Gin.

The once-terrified lieutenant was now lying on his stomach, panting from his ministrations and practically demanding that he fuck him. _Let there be love_, Ikkaku once prayed, when he accepted his promotion in order to seek Kira in the Third. It took painstaking months, but Kira recovered greatly. And Ikkaku saw that it was good.

* * *

Ishida curled into a ball under the blanket, nursing an erection that would have rivalled Ikkaku's in hardness had the quincy been able to compare them. The activity in the next room was making him unbelievably, unbearably horny. It was all that pretty Yumichika's fault, he decided, but it was also just as well that he was alone. Pushing a bony hand into his bathrobe, the quincy found his own needy member and started pumping; sliding up and down his own length and moving in time to the rhythmic moans that came from the other side of the forbidden door. He closed his eyes and imagined that he was fucking Orihime, grinding her into the sheets as she begged for more. Or perhaps it was Ichigo who was pinning him down and sliding his length in and out of his arse, hot breaths gusting down his neck. Hell, how about both…? 

What was he thinking? His two best friends and lovers had just cooperated with his snob of a father to Fedex him to Soul Society. His thigh still smarted slightly where he had been injected, as if to remind him of the fact. But suddenly, the idea of sex was getting very, very irresistible. Maybe he could imagine himself fucking Yumichika instead. The cries in Ikkaku's room were growing in frequency in volume, and Ishida sped up to match.

_Tap-tap-tap._

Someone was knocking softly on the door, the one that led into the corridor. Ishida was too engrossed to care and too lazy to get up, and he pointedly ignored it. Almost there…

The knocking grew louder. Ishida groaned. Mindful of what happened the last time he refused to open a door for a shinigami, he took a few deep breaths and waited for his erection to shrink before getting up. He had to hunch somewhat to conceal it as he shuffled to the door; to maintain the last shred of pride he had as a quincy. He even managed to put on a suitably annoyed scrowl at being disturbed at the late hour.

On opening the door, he was greeted by a short, slender female shinigami in plainclothes clutching a bag. She looked Ishida up and down with wide eyes before greeting him with a smile.

"Good evening. You must be the Quincy called 'Ishida', right?"

Ishida could barely contain his irritation. Surely the Fourth Division wasn't telling clients to follow him here! He was horny, yes, but not _that_ horny yet. He stood in the doorway, blocking her entry. Behind him, the chorus of homosexual lovemaking continued and he winced in embarrassment. The shinigami before him seemed not to care.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Lieutenant Momo Hinamori. Please excuse me." Without waiting for his reply, she pushed past him with surprising strength, dumped her bag on the bedside table and climbed into the bed.

Ishida stood where he was, eyes closed. He wished that someone would shake him out of this nightmare, before opening them again. No such luck. He turned to face Hinamori.

"I was sleeping when you came," he lied. "What do you want?"

The girl gave him an incredulous expression. "I'm staying in this room. Captain Ikkaku and Lieutenant Kira gave their permission. We can sleep together…um, is something wrong?"

The quincy felt the veins in his temples throb. Someday, he was going to kill Ichigo, but not before raping him first. He had no choice but to be blunt.

"I'm not going to have sex with you."

Hinamori frowned at him and stared.

"Neither am I. Part of my squad is staying here for interdivisional training this week. We are roommates and nothing more."

Ishida blushed hard and swallowed his embarrassment, cursing his father, Orihime and Ichigo for the umpteenth time. He closed the door behind him and mumbled an apology. "Yeah, um…sorry Lieutenant. Goodnight." When he climbed in next to Hinamori, he noted that she moved aside slightly and turned her back on him. _The girl must think I'm a pervert,_ he thought. _Guess there's absolutely no chance of finishing off what I started just now._

As he lay down, penis half-flaccid under the blanket, he consoled himself on having acted as a gentleman considering what he was being put through. The moans reached a crescendo and peaked into breathy screams as the lovers gasped each other's names. It took every ounce of Ishida's will to stop himself from grasping his penis and pumping like, well, a pervert. To lessen his frustration and desperate need for release, he opened his eyes to remind himself that he wasn't alone.

Hinamori remained on her side under the blanket and Ishida could only see the back of her head, propped on a pillow. But one slender arm curved in front of her and seemed to be moving slowly, rhythmically and _very quietly_, also under the blanket.

He could have sworn she was masturbating. And he was completely unable to do the same. Finally, he swore.

_Fuck you, Ichigo._

Sleep was a long time in coming.


	3. Chapter 3

Ishida Uryuu was dreaming.

The dreams of quincy are not terribly complex. No inner hollows fought to dominate Ishida's mind and no zanpakutou spirits challenged him to battle. Though he would never to admit it, Ishida's dreams were just like that of any normal, healthy young man. Normal, healthy young men dreamt of their friends and lovers; not of tall, menacing zanpakutou spirits with bad haircuts and tattered cloaks; or so he told Ichigo when the latter described his frequent nighttime encounters with Zangetsu to him. Ergo, Ichigo wasn't a normal, healthy young man; but everyone knew that already. Ishida just had to rub it in his face.

Right now he was dreaming of Orihime. They laughed as they play-wrestled and tumbled in a field of flowers near their old school, under a wide blue sky. Ishida forgot about his abduction, forgot that he was trapped in Sereitei. He even forgot to worry if his carefully- stitched clothes would get dirty or torn as Orihime pummelled him into the ground and their bodies churned up dirt and daisies. In dreams, Ishida's rambunctious, passionate side could emerge without risk of him appearing uncool and lifting the façade of solemn aloofness that he had carefully built over the years. Slender fingers playfully tugged at his shirt collar as she lay on top of him, and he folded his arms over her back, holding her tightly. Ishida didn't always feel the need to have sex with her or Ichigo. Their love for him and the familiar warmth of their presence was enough to fill him with joy.

Therefore it explained Ishida's lack of embarrassing reaction; or rather, erection; when the image of Orihime dissolved into that of a muscular, square-jawed man struggling to free himself from the quincy's vicelike grip. Even as he awoke with a start, released his grip and kicked the strange shinigami out of bed, Ishida felt vaguely thankful. It still didn't stop him from glaring at the intruder with irritation and drawing Ginrei Kojaku at the shinigami sprawled on the floor.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked, somehow managing to not sound ridiculous despite the fact that he was standing on the bed in his crumpled floral pyjamas; his hair an unruly mess and without his glasses. Hinamori was nowhere in sight.

"Third Seat Tetsummi, of this division." The man replied calmly, picking himself up. "I've been trying to wake you up. You've got fifteen minutes to get breakfast and prepare for the morning's exercise."

Ishida decided it would have been better if he didn't wake up. It forced him to remember where he was and his inescapable fate. He kept the bow and muttered an apology at Tetsummi, who simply grunted amiably and left the room, his mission accomplished. The quincy took the pouch containing his toiletries and trotted briskly to the bathroom.

Inside he encountered Izuru Kira. The lieutenant stood over a sink, an old-fashioned barber's razor in hand as he shaved away the night's stubble _very carefully_ with the aid of his reflection in a mirror. Ishida couldn't help but find the mundane activity rather incongruous when compared to the almost feminine sounds he heard coming from the captain's room the previous night. He rubbed his smooth chin, glad that Asian men usually did not grow as much facial hair. Evidently Kira saw him in the mirror, for the blond shinigami paused just long enough to roll his eyes. Considering his own circumstances, Ishida simply had to rejoice in the small victory. He turned his back on Kira so that the lieutenant would not see his smirk. The quincy was going to join the training exercise, and looked forward to sweet revenge for the torture he was subjected to the previous night.

How wrong he was.

* * *

The exercise was going smoothly. Participants were split into two teams in the forested training park. Most of the third division, under Ikkaku and Tetsummi, were attacking a position guarded by the rest as well as the Fifth division members, Ishida, and Hinamori. Kira was absent. Ishida was equipped with a katana, a longbow and a quiver of sponge-tipped arrows dipped in white paint that left marks on whomever he hit, confirming the kill. He was currently nailing any opponents that managed to come in range with considerable satisfaction. A blunt arrow travelling at high speed still caused bruises. 

"Ishida, advance to your left and take cover behind that bush. Ikkaku's reiatsu is approaching." Hinamori ordered him forward and the quincy complied, unused to massed combat but eager to take a shot at another shinigami captain. Just in time, Ikkaku burst forth from the foliage, his shikai activated; and Ishida took aim.

Several things happened at once. Firstly, Tetsummi's zanpakutou prodded at Ishida's back while the quincy fell for Ikkaku's distraction. Before he could finish telling him to yield however, Ishida's lightning reflexes caused him to swing around and fire the arrow at a dangerously close range. As soon as he did so, Tetsummi tried to protect himself by knocking aside Ishida's bow, but ended up slicing the arrow in half just as it left the bowstring. The broken arrow now possessed a sharp point, and it embedded itself in Tetsummi's lower leg. He let out a throaty yell and stumbled to his knees as Hinamori called the exercise to a halt.

Now Ishida found himself ordered by an angry Ikkaku to bring Tetsummi to the Fourth division, a task he didn't exactly relish. He imagined a demonic Retsu Unohana with horns and a pitchfork rubbing her hands together with manic glee at his return. As he supported the heavier, limping shinigami with his shoulder, a thought occurred to him.

He was carrying the medical pack given to him the previous day in the Fourth division. Surely it contained something that could help Tetsummi? Ishida had to admit that he seriously owed the third seat; after his actions that morning and the injury he inflicted. Hopefully he could even heal him and eliminate the trip altogether. Once out of sight of Ikkaku, he pleaded with Tetsummi to let him give it a try, and the shinigami agreed.

Ishida opened the bag and tipped its contents out. To his surprise, it contained absolutely nothing but _hundreds _of small, white spheres which poured forth and bounced everywhere like marbles, forcing him to scramble about to retrieve them. And Tetsummi burst out laughing.

"Hey quincy, do you know what those are?"

"No," Ishida hissed in frustration as a sphere evaded him and fell into a sewer opening.

"See the little skull printed on each of them? They're stimulant pills."

* * *

While Ishida and Tetsummi were away, Ikkaku's and Hinamori's teams completed the exercise and made their way back to the headquarters for lunch. The two leaders eyed each other across the table. Hinamori was the first to speak. 

"I wonder how long he will last…?"

The bald captain shrugged. Procuring a quincy to train with was a bonus for the Third division, but that paled in comparison to what it was doing for the Fifth. It was a special gift for its lieutenant and captain, Ikkaku decided, one that would help him to build a good rapport with the new captain and cheer up Kira's old classmate. No one said that Unohana or the Fourth had to have a total monopoly on Ishida anyway. Breeding studs had _so_ many uses.

"Impatient already, lieutenant? I thought you didn't want his services that soon." he replied, grinning slightly.

"No, Captain Ikkaku" Hinamori snorted indignantly, trying to maintain politeness in the face of the captain's crude jokes. "But he was getting desperate already last night. Too horny to even think of concealing his _hormonal_ reiatsu."

"Pah! It means we're doing well. That's normal for a teenager of human years. And you," Ikkaku paused for emphasis, "are no better."

Hinamori went beet red. "Captain Ikkaku, I believe there's a human saying that applies in this situation." She snarled and thumped the table with her fist in irritation. "The pot calling the kettle black."

To her surprise, Ikkaku Madarame burst out into hoots of laughter. He slammed down his bottle (was it his second or third?) hard enough to shatter its bottom, and she dodged a flying shard of glass. Anyone observing closely enough would have seen tears of joy in his eyes as he tossed the stunned girl a beer, rejoicing in having brought back the fighting spirit of another worthy 'playmate', as Yachiru would put it. Her captain and Kira would be so pleased, and Ikkaku silently heaped blessings on the quincy's bespectacled head. Hinamori eyed the drink with astonishment.

It's a fact of life: alternate universes exist. In most of them, Hinamori never recovered from Aizen. She died, went mad or got involved in a fluffy relationship with a very short, white-haired captain. In others, Ikkaku died or married Yumichika after receiving a makeover and a wig. It tends to be pretty sad stuff. But in just _this _one universe, the rules of probability bent over and let themselves get fucked by Rukia with a sixteen inch strap-on.

Because in this universe, Ikkaku reached forward, peeled Hinamori's fingers open, and gave her a high-five. Together, they would turn the gentleman quincy into a raving sex maniac, and enjoy every moment of it.

* * *

An hour later, Ishida and Tetsummi returned from the Fourth division. Thankfully for Ishida, the shinigami was healed easily with a little kidou, though he still couldn't ignore the gentle, hopeful smiles that the medics kept darting his way. He made it a point not to walk past his room, not because he feared that crazed healers would yank him inside and milk him for whatever he had, but because he didn't want to be tempted by the familiar privacy it offered. 

There were more exercises in the afternoon, Tetsummi explained. Ikkaku pushed his troops hard, and harder if there were other shinigami divisions to beat. They barely had time to swallow a handful of tasteless biscuits for lunch before rejoining the rest. The Third Seat also helpfully suggested taking the stimulant pills.

Which led to Ishida looking at five of them in the palm of his hand, wondering exactly how many to take. Tetsummi explained that no, they would not turn him into a mindless sex slave since everyone in the Fourth division used them when working long hours. And hadn't he barely slept the previous night? Since Unohana had given him so many (and probably expected to give him more), Ishida decided to swallow all five. The results were excellent, and Ishida spent the whole afternoon and most of the evening leaping from rooftop to rooftop and hammering Ikkaku's division so hard that the irritated captain shook Houzukimaru at him in frustration and insisted on swapping the quincy over to his side for the next day.

That night, Ishida walked in on Kira again in the bathroom. The shinigami was brushing his teeth this time. As he walked past the mirror, something disturbing caught his eye. Tiny, black hairs were visible on his chin, the last stages of puberty finally catching up with the quincy. Grunting with annoyance, he went to retrieve his shaver – a device he used barely more than once a fortnight. First he attached the disposable blade. Then Ishida applied some shaving foam to his face and began using the shaver, moving it in firm, even strokes down his jawline. While he did so, Kira spat out the last of the toothpaste and water, and turned to leave. The quincy watched him go…wait a minute, was he _sniggering_?! The bastard…YEEEOWCH!!!

Ishida winced at the cut he had just inflicted. Shaving cuts were always disproportionately painful in relation to their size. He forced himself to concentrate on finishing the task before applying toothpaste to the cut to soothe the sting. It was doubly humiliating to have nicked himself with a modern safety shaver in front of someone who used a naked blade large enough to slit throats with. It was an immature comparison, he knew, but somehow Kira's antique razor seemed to surpass and mock his in its sheer _manliness_.

Deciding that his revenge on Izuru Kira would have to wait till another day, Ishida climbed into bed with Hinamori and clapped the pillow over his ears to block out the howls of ecstasy coming from the other room and the sight of Hinamori slowly probing herself. As he tried to ignore his own hardened member, Ishida amended his earlier assessment of Kira's character. Not only was he a bastard, he was Ikkaku's bitch as well.

* * *

Somewhere in the sewers below Sereitei, a rat was on the prowl. Decades of being a spirit-creature without the need to consume food had not dampened its foraging instincts. It discovered a strange, white ball that was the size of its head lying under a grate, through which moonlight filtered faintly. The ball smelt edible. 

The rat nibbled at it rapidly, clutching the pill with its skull motif in his forepaws. It had an enjoyable, milky taste, and was devoured quickly for its size. Within a short time the rat became suddenly energetic, and he felt bold enough to scamper several hundred metres to the drainpipe that led to the kitchen of the Third division. Once there, he launched several successful and undiscovered raids that stocked his underground larder with half a mackerel, a pound of cooked rice, six bananas and a chocolate bar. After gorging himself silly, the rodent still found enough stamina to hunt down five different female rats to carry out the stern task of propagating his species. Finally exhausted, the rat crawled across a garden towards his nest.

For some reason, his instincts began telling him that something was wrong. He felt _slow _and _heavy _and _dull_. It wasn't just tiredness or a belly full of food. The rat's fur was growing at an accelerated rate. Long strands of matted hair soon covered his eyes, ears and snout; while the tufts on his feet caught on his little claws and made him stumble. Unable to sense his surroundings properly or move quickly, the spirit-rat was easy prey to a spirit-owl that dove noiselessly from the branches above and swallowed him whole, gagging slightly because of the surprising fact that most of what it had eaten was fur.

Instinct is a difficult thing. No-one can deny it.

* * *

**A/N**: Sorry I haven't updated that recently…too much work. Things should speed up from here. In this chapter, I simply had to write in the fact that uke anime bishounens still have ordinary bodily functions. Must be that I'm regressing to using toilet humor or something. 

BTW, Kira's absence from the exercise is a very, very significant fact.


	4. Chapter 4

On the third day, Ishida made his first escape attempt. However well-intentioned Ikkaku was, the quincy knew he was still trapped. Mentally, he took stock of the situation. He had no money and virtually no belongings. Where could he go?

The First division was responsible for scheming with his father to abduct him here. Next.

The Second division he knew too little about. Same with the Seventh and Eighth divisions.

The Third division fed and housed him at present. But as some religious authorities would say: Man cannot live on bread alone. That had to be the understatement of the century.

Returning to the comforts of the Fourth division was a horrifying possibility. On the pride of the quincy, he couldn't bring himself to go there. Ever. For a long time. In the near future. Umm…yet. Ok, actually it was rather tempting. Then Ishida imagined himself spending decades servicing countless very ugly women who couldn't get laid, and the alternative involving beakers and pumping machines. And steeled himself.

The Fifth and Eleventh divisions were clearly in cahoots with the Third. No respite there.

The Sixth division contained Abarai Renji. The idiot redhead would probably side with Ichigo and hand him over to the tender mercies of the Fourth. For the same reason, Rukia's presence in the Thirteenth division excluded that possibility too. Next.

The Ninth division sounded like a good possibility. Hisagi Shuuhei seemed like a decent guy, considering how little Ishida had dealt with him during the Bount crisis.

The Tenth division sounded equally good; except that employing Matsumoto's oh-so-altruistic help in his fight against slavery to members of her own gender seemed like a disaster waiting to happen.

The Twelfth division…forget it.

If Ishida escaped Sereitei, he could possibly search for Shiba Ganju as well. Once he had a chance to settle down, he could try to return to the human world, though he had no idea what he would do from the point onward. For now, Ishida settled on the most practical option within Sereitei. He decided that reasoning with the single lieutenant of the Ninth division was the easiest course of action. Now all he had to do was wait for his chance to sneak off.

Which brought him to where he was now. Ishida's great escape involved fifteen energy pills and two hours of non-stop running as soon as the Third division and Hinamori's forces stopped for lunch. Chemically-enhanced, he was impossible for any shinigami to catch and it seemed that Ikkaku and Hinamori didn't even join the pursuit. Kira wasn't there to begin with. He yawned as he lazily backflipped over a twelve foot wall, skipped across an open courtyard at sixty miles per hour, bounced onto the roof of the Ninth division's five storey main office building, down the other side and landed on the doorstep. He knocked quietly and turned the handle of the door.

It swung open, and Ishida strode in. The golden rays of the sun filtered through behind him, glinting off polished lenses and framing the silhouette of the young archer. Outside, the wind blew small, pink flowers off a tree, causing them to drift in the breeze while making his robes flutter in a suitably dignified way. His sandaled feet rasped against the worn wooden floorboards as they creaked to announce his passage. The Last Quincy had entered the building.

Seated at his desk, Lieutenant Hisagi Shuuhei barely glanced upwards at Ishida before taking in the Fourth division medical pack he carried. He gestured over his shoulder down a nearby corridor.

"The clogged toilet is that way…"

Ishida very, very quietly closed his eyes and asked himself why he ever gave up wanting to kill shinigami. But there were more pressing issues at hand than skewering the ignoramus before him with a Seele Schneider.

"Shuuhei, it's me."

The lieutenant looked up from his paperwork again, this time recognising his guest. "Oh, sorry. Hey, when did you join the Fourth? I didn't think you were the sort."

The Seele Schneider was beginning to sound like a bloody good idea. Ishida went directly to the crux of the matter.

"I need your help, Shuuhei. Two days ago I was kidnapped from the human world. I am being held prisoner in Sereitei, and…" his voice trailed off. He wasn't exactly sure how he could truthfully explain his predicament without sounding like a complete idiot.

"And…?" Shuuhei's brow rose in enquiry.

"…the Fourth division wants to use me in a breeding program." There, he'd said it.

Shuuhei sat and stared at Ishida, shocked and horrified. This was, in Tousen's words, a gross injustice. He mentally put himself in Ishida's shoes…alone, taken away from school and family, so young and yet confined for the rest of his days to be used and abused by countless women; or be mechanically, systematically milked of every, last drop…

His eyes widened and glazed over at the thought. "You lucky _bastard_! Do you have any idea how much I've prayed every single night to be in your position...urgh!" Shuuhei's lust-filled rambling was interrupted by Ishida grabbing him by the collar and lifting him off his seat. Glasses pressed against tattoos and scars as the quincy yelled into his face. "Idiot! Unlike you, 'sex life' for me does not equal 'life'! Get it into your stupid, thick skull that -"

A pair of Ninth division shinigami walked into the room and was treated to the sight of their lieutenant wriggling in the grasp of an infuriated Fourth division medic. Before Shuuhei or Ishida could stop them, they drew their zanpakutous and slid one against either side of Ishida's neck.

Had he been there to watch, Hanatarou would have experienced a case of déjà vu. First Ishida released Shuuhei. Then Shuuhei ordered them to release the quincy. He continued, this time with greater seriousness. "Ishida, I know someone else, a close friend of mine, who is in the same situation as you." The archer looked up in surprise.

"I know you don't see it that way now, but hear me out. It's not as bad as it sounds. The Fourth is nothing like the Twelfth. They take great care of anyone under their roof. They'll provide you with food, exercise facilities and a private, comfortable room. You won't be confined as long as they can trust you not to attempt escape, you get to refuse and provide a sample instead if you can't stand the sight of someone, and you can even do other work in Sereitei when you are not otherwise occupied, if you catch my drift... When the kids are born, you can spend lots of time with them. In your case, that's probably a must – to teach them how to be quincy."

_Damn, why am I actually starting to like the idea?_ Ishida thought. But then, there was no way of telling if Shuuhei was lying. He regretted not having stayed around long enough for Unohana to explain anything to him. For some reason, as he rode the huge energy boost the pills gave him, he was starting to feel incredibly horny.

"Wait, how do I know what you are saying is true?"

Shuuhei glanced at a nearby clock. "I'd bring you to meet him now, except that he's shy and it would be polite to ask him first. He's busy right now anyway. But I'm sure he'll agree to meet you tomorrow morning. Are you staying at the Fourth?"

Ishida vigorously shook his head. "I've come seeking safe harbour, Shuuhei."

"Well, I've got to ask my captain's permission to grant you that, Ishida."

"You've got a captain now? Who is it?"

"Oh, she's Orihime Inoue."

Like a tape on rewind, Ishida bolted out of the door, bounced onto the roof of the five storey building, down the other side, skipped across the courtyard at sixty kilometres per hour, flipped over the wall, and slunk back to the Third division.

* * *

Needless to say, his absence had not gone unnoticed. Ikkaku coldly banished the quincy to the room and placed him under guard while the bald captain pondered his next course of action. He summoned Kira, who complained he was tired. After some thought, he summoned Yumichika instead.

That evening, Ishida glanced into the mirror, noticing with shock that he actually had a five o' clock shadow. The resulting flush of pride in the manly achievement was immediately dampened when he returned to the sink with his shaver and discovered that Ikkaku had a bathroom use for Houzukimaru. Zanpakutou against chin, he snarled with annoyance at Ishida, who backed out swiftly. Unfortunately the captain mistook this for yet another escape attempt, and despite the vehement protests, had Ishida tied securely to the bed frame with rope before retiring to bed himself.

Even in a four-point restraint, Ishida still suffered. The blasted, demonic Hinamori was pleasuring herself and completely ignoring him as usual, and the ruckus next door was louder than ever before. As he tried to will his raging hard-on into submission (it was making a very visible tent under the blanket she oh-so-tenderly placed on him), Ishida couldn't help but wonder just how much fucking the slutty little lieutenant next door could take.

Tonight's fun involved loud ecstatic howls punctuated by thrusting so vigorous that the bedsprings literally echoed. The minutes ticked by on the clock hanging from the opposite wall. Ikkaku and Kira had been going constantly, without pause, for about half an hour. The wails reached a crescendo and died down, and Ishida sighed thankfully. Then it started again, just as vigorous as before, and his relief turned to sheer frustration. It seemed the blond slut and his captain was multi-orgasmic too.

He whimpered as the process repeated itself for a third time.

In Ikkaku's room, Kira lay back in a chair with a paperback novel in hand, moaning theatrically. Ikkaku uttered several loud gasps and gave the OK signal with his fingers to Yumichika, who began jumping on the bed again for the next step of his favourite aerobics routine.

* * *

The next morning, Ishida awoke in what to him seemed to be the cold, grey light of dawn, though to Hinamori it was a brilliant sunrise. She yawned and snuggled under the sheets for a little while longer. Eventually she stretched, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and rolled over to check on her captive.

Simultaneously, two visitors were in the hallway chatting to Ikkaku. Shuuhei was accompanied by his taller companion and surprised to see Yumichika slip out of Ikkaku's room on silent feet. He stared perplexed at his retreating back before returning to the conversation. "We went to the Fourth division to look for the quincy, and they directed us here…"

They were interrupted by Hinamori's piercing scream. All present drew their zanpakutous at once and burst into Kira's room, knocking over Hinamori in the process, for she had backed up against the door in alarm. A vaguely humanoid shape, completely covered by long, shaggy black hair, was tied to the bed in the exact position Ishida was the previous night. It even looked like it sported an erection.

Sajin Komamura, Captain of the Gotei 13's Seventh Division, perked his furry ears with interest and turned to Shuuhei with an almost hopeful look on his face.

* * *

**A/N**: I've been working on real life stuff and have been really busy, but I haven't forgotten about this story! Sorry for the update delay. 


	5. Chapter 5

Two shaggy creatures sat side by side in the waiting room of the Fourth division. Komamura patted Ishida's back gently. The darker-furred individual, now sporting a pair of glasses that indicated which side of him faced the front, turned to him and said something like: "thnf twibble-thwibble snwf-yff?" before stopping to sniffle and spit the out the strands of hair that entered his mouth. The dog captain nodded with understanding.

"Yes, Shuuhei is right about the conditions of the program. But unfortunately, most female shinigami are not physically, let alone genetically, compatible with me – much as I love the company." He was glad that fur hid his blush. "I'm officially in a program, but nothing's happened for the last four hundred years. You're a lucky kid."

"Nffnh! Phdfwss hwn gyrlgnh!" More sniffles and vaguely chirruping noises followed, comprehendible only to Komamura. The mound looked somewhat agitated, with locks of black hair being shaken rapidly.

"There now, it's not that bad…" Komamura sighed gently. He was beginning to feel rather fond of the new breeding subject. He placed his hand gently on the top of the mound, before slowly and tenderly running his immense fingers down Ishida's back. For a moment, Ishida seemed to calm down, but when Komamura's hand reached the base of his spine, the mound squealed loudly. "NNYPMFF!!!"

"Ishida, do you think I actually I want to have sex with you? Calm down. We're here to see what Unohana can do."

The quincy hairball's squeals of horror subsided into sobs of relief, even as the captain continued to pet him on the head. Ishida was way past regretting consuming the stimulant pills and the embarrassment of returning to the Fourth division. Escaping in his current condition simply wasn't possible – he could not walk without tripping over his own pubic hair. Every single follicle on his body had gone into overdrive during the night, including his body hair. Even his eyebrows, eyelashes, and the fine hairs in his nostrils and ears were not spared; they had all grown to frightening lengths. Presently a medic came to summon them.

"Captain Unohana will see you now."

Carefully, Ishida rose to his feet. He winced as he stood on the hairs attached to parts of his lower anatomy. Shuffling forward slowly, the he allowed himself to be guided by Komamura since his vision was mostly obscured by his eyelashes; a misshapen black sheep herded to the woolshed by a bipedal sheepdog. It was just as well that this prevented him from noticing the stares he was getting from curious Fourth division members and patients, sparing him the embarrassment. On entering, he found to his dismay that the Captain was not alone. Four other medics sat on stools within.

"Good morning Ishida Uryuu, we've been wondering how you have been these few days. I've been eagerly anticipating your return," she said with a smile, as if the arrival of fur-covered quincys at her office was the most normal occurrence in the world. Ishida bitterly chose not to reply, instead he mumbled to Komamura, who translated dutifully.

"He demands to know why the 'bleep'-" Komamura used two index claws to draw quotation marks in the air "- you have turned him into Cousin Itt…pardon the language…"

"Apology accepted, Komamura-taichou. It seems that he has overdosed on our stimulant pills," Unohana replied, turning to Ishida. "Your reluctance to speak to us meant that we did not have a chance to caution you earlier."

"Unohana, how exactly do your pills cause this to happen?" asked Komamura. "I take it this does not usually happen to your division's members."

"Ishida's pills are an older version of the ones we use today. Both types increase energy and stamina when taken, however the mechanism through which this occurs is different. The older pills worked by increasing the production of male hormones. This increases physical stamina, but testosterone also has many other effects such as increased virility, muscle growth and hair growth. For a period of time, this was a godsend as members of our division went months without ever being bullied by the Eleventh. Then the female members went nearly sterile," she paused for effect, "and we discontinued its use on a day to day basis. Today's stimulant pills are simply measured doses of caffeine."

Just then one of the unranked medics present raised his hand. Unohana nodded at him, urging him to speak.

"Ishida-san grew all the hair overnight. Why didn't this happen to us when we were using the old pills?"

"You were only issued one pill per three days. I think our friend here got carried away." She smiled sweetly, and returned to address Ishida. "Do not worry. We are here to discuss means of curing this problem. Firstly…"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Iemura peered into the room, his gaze finally settling on Ishida. Black fur bristled in response. Still smiling, Unohana asked "What is it? I'm sure it must be an important matter to interrupt a _private_ consultation…" Though the captain's face had turned away from the other people in the room, Ishida noticed Iemura's slowly turn pale as he received the kindly woman's Death Glare of Doom ™.

"Uh…um, there's _another_ one, taichou." Iemura was on the verge of cringing before his captain.

"Hmm? How interesting. I think we can treat them both at the same time. Bring in the patient, please." She turned her innocently murderous gaze back towards Ishida.

Relieved, Iemura retreated from the doorway and returned with Tetsummi and a second walking pile of hair. This one was blonde.

* * *

(flashback to the previous day) 

"Tetsummi…I'm so tired, but if the captain wants me again tomorrow night, I don't know if I can refuse him…"

"Well, yesterday I noticed the quincy had these pills…"

* * *

Now the two 'Itts' sat beside each other in Unohana's room, which was getting rather crowded. Thanks to Ishida's earlier comment, the name had stuck. Though they were the same height, the black Itt sat taller than the blonde one. Komamura thought it remarkable how Ishida still managed to convey a smug expression despite the lack of visible facial features. 

Unohana stood in front of a whiteboard with a marker and started writing as she spoke.

"Option one; we use hot wax."

At once the Itts ballooned to triple their previous widths as both quincy and shinigami reacted with hair-raising fright to her proposition. Komamura sneezed violently, wondering for the first time if he was allergic to human fur.

"Option two; we dip them in sewage effluent from the 12th division."

At first, the Itts brightened considerably, before Komamura interjected, "But then they wouldn't even have eyebrows left. Permanently." Unohana nodded in sympathy…she really was hoping they wouldn't choose that drastic course of action. Besides, anyone skinny-dipping in the 12th division's wastewater had the unhappy tendency to lose more than just their hair and gain unwanted mutations. The Itts shrivelled, crestfallen.

"Option three; we inject female hormones as a counter and trim them."

The blonde Itt shrugged dejectedly, but the black Itt recoiled in horror, puffing up again. Komamura tried to hold back a sniffle as politely as he could. When Ishida finally deflated to his usual size, he squeaked dejectedly at Unohana.

"Ishida says you can let him go; and he will eke out a sad but well-paid existence in Rukongai as a travelling freak show." Komamura cocked his head and listened carefully to the sequence of babbles. "He also says that you can do what you like to Kira, because the lieutenant is a wimpy, pampered, 'bleep'-ing 'bleep' who doesn't work or fight and spends every night getting 'bleep'-ed in the 'bleep' by Ikkaku."

Before Unohana could react, the blonde Itt snarled and the fur started flying.

* * *

He never knew it would end up like this, Shuuhei thought, as he ran behind his newly-appointed captain towards the headquarters of the Fourth. Whoever wrote the rules that defined someone's eligibility for captaincy had been thorough. As every Academy student knew, there were three ways to become a Gotei 13 captain. One way was to obtain recommendations from three captains and approval from three more. The second method was to achieve bankai. The last was to defeat the existing captain in combat before two hundred division members. 

The only glaring omission was that the rules forgot to mention that the aspiring captain had to be a shinigami to begin with.

That didn't mean Orihime was a bad captain, at least when she wasn't trying to force him to consume barely-edible 'treats'. Shuuhei just felt it incongruous that a person could wield so much power and still cheerfully run about healing bruises; while occasionally making strange drawings of her friends (including him) clad in blocky chunks of a substance she called 'Gundamium' and firing lasers out of their eyeballs on the empty corners of their paperwork. The Ninth division would simply never be the same again; and after a bit of soul searching, Shuuhei reluctantly decided it was a change for the better. Though she was clad in the same sleeveless top that was customary in the Ninth under her captain's robe, she cut a figure (literally, too) that was completely unlike Tousen's and had an attitude to match. He'd only known her properly for a few days, but couldn't help being fond of her already.

However, Orihime was anything but cheerful today. The quincy was in the Fourth division again but for the wrong reason, and she knew she presented the best solution. They bolted past the guards at the gate and straight into the treatment centre; just in time to watch as a door swung open to reveal Komamura. The dog captain clutched at his runny nose as he staggered out, eyes watering; while bloodcurdling yowls and hisses issued forth from the room behind him.

In a lightning fast feat of deductive reasoning, Shuuhei put two and two together and dragged his bulky friend aside just as Orihime burst through the door. The Shun Shun Rikka fluttered agitatedly as she hollered, "Santenkesshun, I reject!" before the room exploded into a storm of shed hair.

When the cloud settled, Tetsummi and the medics blew hair from their faces and kicked aside clumps of it on the floor. Unohana clutched the stark naked Kira and Ishida by the scruff of their necks as the two men stopped flailing at each other in order to cover their privates.

* * *

"Hey, where is he going?" Ishida was the first to break the uncomfortable silence as he was escorted away by Orihime. At the gates of the Fourth division, he watched as Kira turned and walked off in the _opposite_ direction. Tetsummi, Shuuhei and Komamura had disappeared a long time ago. 

"During the day, he'll serve under Ichigo," she replied, with uncharacteristic solemness. Ishida was too worn out to argue. Instead he settled for glowering at her behind his glasses, which miraculously escaped being shattered in the fight. The quincy was wearing a hand-sewn buttoned shirt and cargo pants that came from his own wardrobe in the Fourth, and had even been kind enough to toss the lieutenant a set of his old Karakura High school uniform for decency's sake. It wasn't like he'd need it again. Given time, he might even forgive Orihime…

He'd even gotten tired of calling the guy a whore, considering the future ahead of him.

"I've missed you, Uryuu," Orihime continued. "Shuuhei's been wonderful though, he's so hardworking, strong and sweet, and always there when I need him..."

_What?!_ Ishida detachedly resigned himself to the fact that everyone in Sereitei got laid by everyone else on a daily basis. Including his girlfriend. Somewhere out there, Hanatarou was probably screwing the Captain-General.

"…just like my 1:100 scale Master-Grade Gundam Wing Zero Custom that I brought with me from Earth. I gave him this lovely Zaku II kit and a big bag of mint sardine cookies…"

"You never even told me when you became a captain." Ishida said, bitterly. Orihime rambled on.

"…because we all have to be nice to our lieutenants in _some_ way, and I can't have the same sort of relationship with Shuuhei as Ikkaku does with Kira. I heard he likes Yumichika…um, what's wrong...?"

"Nothing," replied Ishida, as he tore his gaze away from the nearest wall and the urge to slam his head into it for his own idiocy.

"Paperwork and training shinigami can be so tedious! I need Shuuhei as much as I need a gatling gun and psychic powers! For everything else… well, that's why we brought you along, right?" She winked and squeezed his hand. Ishida gaped.

"But…Ichigo…Kira, isn't he...aren't they…"

"Hmm?"

"You said…you know…you said Kira was serving Ichigo, and he's the lieutenant of the Third, and he likes being uke…" Ishida found himself resentful again, but also beginning to suspect he was missing out on something horribly obvious.

"Heehee! Ishida, you look so funny when you're flustered. Ichigo's got you for that. Interdivisional training was scheduled for the Fifth and the Third. But since his captain was gone, Kira had to stay back in the third division."

"But he was never around…no, wait…Ikkaku's room…Hinamori…"

"She's your first client. After me of course. It's so convenient for Ikkaku and Ichigo, don't you think? Both divisions are just one step away from the Fourth…"

"…AAARGH!!!"

Without waiting for Orihime to catch up, Ishida bolted all the way back to the _Fifth_ division room he had spent the past few nights in. All caution was thrown to the wind as he raced over to the nearest drawer and yanked it open. Just as he dreaded, it was filled with many pairs of pretty, cotton B-cup brassieres. This confirmed two facts for Ishida. The first was that everyone had set him up, and he had been sleeping in Hinamori's room. The second was that Ichigo Kurosaki was a gutless coward who had to pay.

* * *

**A/N:** Those conversations were hard to write! Ishida might be OOC, but he started losing his cool a long time ago. 


	6. Chapter 6

In the Third division, the _actual_ Third division, Captain Kurosaki Ichigo stood and watched the quincy grind his way up the gravel path, an expression best described as homicidal wrath behind his steel-rimmed glasses.

You could almost see the tumbleweed rolling past the division's main gate.

The menacing effect was offset somewhat by the fact that instead of a gun, Ishida was clutching a blue-and-white checkered brassiere in front of him as if it were a deceased and very slimy marine creature. Once he was close enough, he flung the undergarment with his usual deadly aim. Ichigo simply grinned and grabbed it before it connected with his face.

"ICHIGO! YOU BASTARD…!!!"

"Eh, Ishida…I take it you've been enjoying yourself so far?"

For a while, it looked like Ishida was going to launch into a sputtering barrage of furious accusations concerning his kidnapping and apparent enslavement. Instead, he drew Ginrei Kojaku and Ichigo dived for cover behind the nearest wall. From the hidden alcove he shared with Kira, Yumichika dialed Ikkaku's cellphone and began his running commentary.

"Okay, Ikka…now we see Ginrei Kojakku firing and the ninth seat's desk exploding…Ichigo is a blur and Ishida hasn't scored a hit…Zangetsu's drawn, the captain's jumping across the office while your officers scramble out, this is good training for them…oh! That blast nearly got Shisato, but it's gone out the window and it's the 2nd Squad's problem now…beautiful wireless connection you've got in this office, Ikka – handphone reception's still good even though they've clashed reiatsu now… Ishida parried Ichigo and cratered the ceiling…" He was interrupted by an anguished groan from Kira muttering about the destruction in the office.

"…what, tell Kira the repairs are coming out of his whole year's sake budget? Sure…now Ichigo's cartwheeling away from an arrow…," there was a thunderous boom as Yumichika spoke, "probably a Seele Schneider…Ichigo's got to find another cabinet now…he's got the quincy by the hair and started pounding him into the wall, but Ishida's escaped now and kicked him in the…ow…good thing_ he's_ the breeding stud…nope, now Ichigo's got his leg, he's pulling him to the door…not the front door, the other…yes its _his_ door…look at those claw marks on the floor!...I'm gonna win the bet…Kira, let go of me…AAAIIEE!"

Amidst the general chaos, two loud crashes reverberated through the Third's office building almost simultaneously. The first was the sound of its lieutenant flinging Yumichika out of the nearest closed window before bursting into tears. The second was that of Orihime charging through the door to intercept the two other men in the room, blowing it completely off its hinges in the process.

There were more thunderous crashes, followed by muffled struggling, and then silence.

When Yumichika finally dared to peek through the Orihime-shaped hole in the door, he realized that neither he nor Ikkaku had won their bets. Neither Ichigo nor Ishida was humping the other, so Komamura-taichou eventually got to keep all the money. Ichigo was spooning Orihime from behind on the remains of Kira's bed, wrapping her around an all-too-willing Ishida; whose wrists were now bound with Hinamori's brassiere as he performed the task which he had been brought to Soul Society for. Behind Yumichika, Kira wordlessly surveyed the destroyed shelves, blackened walls, smashed window and ripped furniture before bursting into tears again.

* * *

Epilogue

Several months later, Ishida, unranked shinigami of the Fourth division, sat in his boudoir and scanned his schedule for the afternoon. Every day, he woke up telling himself he ought to feel like total crap, but somehow he couldn't. His division wouldn't let him.

Speaking of divisions, the Twelfth had shown a surprising lack of interest in the quincy breeding program. That might have had something to do with the complete cessation of bullying incidents against the Fourth and the declaration of open season on the former; courtesy of Yumichika. The shinigami of the Eleventh were getting tired of the same old targets anyway. It might also have had something to do with the fact that every single medic in the Fourth had become a passably decent shot with a non-magical bow and carried a quiver of blunt arrows. Unohana accepted his suggestion that since the healers would not normally be in the front line, they might as well learn projectile use. And unlike the Eleventh, they saw no shame in using group tactics.

The quincy had to admit though that his motives for instructing the Fourth were far from completely altruistic. Bearing the official title of 'Archery Instructor' was far preferable to that of 'Unpaid Whore', especially when it came to teaching the gossiping students at the Shinigami Academy as well. On nights when the wind was blowing in the right direction, he took pleasure in opening a large window that faced the Third division. Then he would tell the medics to listen carefully while he reminded them who the bigger whore was. One lieutenant's sake budget was insufficient to cover the costs of the repairs, so Ikkaku; ever the innovative one, accepted other forms of payment.

"The nature of Soul Society is such that this isn't going to stop at your natural death, Ishida."

The archer turned in surprise. Ichigo was already lying on his bed, stripped down to his pants. Dammit, why was everyone able to sense reiatsu except him?

"Kurosaki Ichigo, I hate you." He sounded like he meant every word of it, though his groin stirred slightly in response.

"I'll remember that when I need to perform konso for you. Since you are already in Soul Society, there shouldn't be any problem keeping you in the same room for the next few hundred years at least…in the meantime, do you want to go visit Chad and Tatsuki in Mexico today? They've been asking about you."

"As a matter of fact, I'd like to have a word with my father first."

"No Quincy are left on Earth. He's moved to Sereitei too since his engagement. And Unohana's been acting so lovestruck that even Kenpachi is disturbed. But if you want, he's in the next block."

After the shocking turn of events that led to his current state, not much could surprise Ishida anymore. "Yeah, sure. Captain equals Mum. I already know that. Thank you for finally telling me three months after she assigned Yamada Hanatarou as my direct superior and had him break the news first."

"What do you want to tell Ryuken?"

"That I'll never forgive him, and that I hold him, and you, personally responsible for dragging the pride of the Quincy to a whole new low. You suck."

"Hey, I know I suck. But unlike you, I can't swallow; or Hanatarou will kill me." Ichigo grinned at his own sarcasm and started humming the familiar tune. _Every sperm is sacred, every sperm is good. Every sperm is needed…_

Ishida pushed his glasses higher up his nose, desperately trying to ignore him. This became impossible when Ichigo wrapped his arms around the Quincy and whispered into his ear.

"I heard you have a client this afternoon, before you can join Hinamori and me later. Tetsummi's wife again?"

Ishida groaned under his breath in response. She was a kindly woman but possessed with the figure and complexion of a rock melon, and old enough to be his mother in terms of physical age.

"I can help you as usual, Ishida…" Ichigo's hot breath caressed his ear, which flushed pink.

"No, I don't need your help. Release me this instant, or I'll…mmph…" The quincy's threat was never finished as Ichigo slid one hand into his yukata and very gently pinched an erect nipple. He found himself lifted off the ground and placed on the bed, even as he continued to protest weakly while returning the kisses. Strong hands found and undid the knot of his sash, which ended up discarded on the floor, followed by his pants. Ichigo barely remembered to grab the milking tube positioned handily at the side of the bed before slipping it over Ishida's hardened member and fastening it in place with metal buckles over the slender quincy's thighs and hips.

Pinned beneath Ichigo, Ishida's wiry frame tensed and strained; his fists clenching tightly as he resumed his struggle almost automatically - just as he always did. And just as he always did, when Ichigo slid a lubricated finger within him and probed against his most private spot, he broke the resolve of the most stubborn quincy that ever existed. The archer's fists clenched one last time before they opened again, fingers splaying wide as he relaxed and thrust in sync with Ichigo, the quiet hum of the gentle suction device a backdrop to their moans, then screams, of pleasure.

END

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took so long to finish…I moved to another country, spent two weeks with my partner who I will not see again in six months, and got absorbed somewhat unwittingly into a teenage, hyperactive, friendly and very enthusiastic Bleach cosplay group. But I have never, ever forgotten this fic, and have drawn up outlines for several more in the meantime! BTW, the song is 'Every Sperm is Sacred', from Monty Python's The Meaning of Life. 

I apologise if this end chapter is a bit short compared to the rest, though I wasn't sure how I could make it longer other than by lengthening the sex scene. But i'm not sure if people would enjoy a long lemon featuring mechanical suction devices.

Omake Sketch:

"Don't go in yet, Ishida. My lieutenant is still inside."

Ichigo lay sprawled on the bed, completely spent. An even more exhausted Ishida shrugged as he approached the door, a towel around his waist. "It's a unisex bathroom with cubicles. I can use it anytime I want. We need to leave by three…"

"Fine, fine…not that there's anything you haven't seen before. You've screwed her already right?"

"Shut the fuck up, Ichigo."

The door creaked open to reveal Momo Hinamori, with a shaver in hand, standing in front of the mirror in a bathrobe. She looked up and smiled warmly at the quincy as she reached for the can of shaving foam. Then the door slammed shut again as Ishida bolted from the bathroom in horror. "GAH….!!! Ichigo, she's…she's….my god…Aarrgh!"

_I wonder what's got into him now_, Hinamori thought, as she stepped forward slightly and began shaving her legs.


End file.
